


Peanut Butter Texts

by LiberAmans214



Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2020 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castiel Has Issues (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Texting, bend-me-shape-me's SPN Advent Calendar 2020, mentioned gabriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: >>> hello, dean.[12:07 am]Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other self-professed skill is air guitar aren’t exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.Cas’s name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.<<< hey[12:09 am]<<< you OK?[12:09 am]The response is immediate.>>> do you have peanut butter?[12:09 am]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038195
Comments: 9
Kudos: 136





	Peanut Butter Texts

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: phone calls and late night texts

Cas isn’t a serial texter.

And Dean’s a-okay with it.

But for all that’s worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

_**> >> hello, dean.** _ **[12:07 am]**

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren’t exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas’s name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

_< << hey _[12:09 am]

_< << you OK? _[12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

_**> >> do you have peanut butter? ** _ **[12:09 am]**

And as if it’s an afterthought, Cas adds.

**_> >> yes, I’m fine. how are you? _[12:10 am]**

Dean blinks.

_< << peachy. peanut butter?_ [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend’s stash of condiments.

_**> >> I ran out.** _ **[12:12 am]**

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It’s not like he’s a stranger to Cas’s weird cravings when he’s high. (There’d been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas ‘N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean’s conscience.) But he doesn’t think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean’s usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular “jelly, not jam”-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who’s also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

_< << pretty sure i have some _[12:14 am]

**_> >> :) _[12:14 am]**

_**> >> I’m coming over ** _ **[12:14 am]**

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn’t mean that he ever would be (or for hell’s sake, he’d scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, _is_.)

*

The second time had been early — way, _way_ too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin’ am on a _Sunday_. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

**_> >> I miss you _[6:28 am]**

**_>_** _ **> > I’d* miss you**_ **[6:29 am]**

Dean’s stomach twists, and he’s not sure if it’s in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

_< << what_ [6:32 am]

_< << wtf are you talking about? _[6:32 am]

Nothing.

_< << cas? _[6:33 am]

_< << dude _[6:34 am]

_< << cas???? _[6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can’t stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin’ toothbrush since he’s already up, and now _definitely_ awake. Cas was _so_ paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically _sags_ when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

**_> >> sorry, I had to make a call. _[6:42 am]**

_**>** _ _**> > I’m not taking the job. ** _ **[6:42 am]**

*

And that’s how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas’s oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer’s (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty’) and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

_And_ it’s how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

“It’s not who I am anymore.” Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn’t see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. “And if I go back there, I’m never getting out again.”

Dean’d swallowed.

“I don’t want to.” Cas had said, voice trembling. “I am — my own person here. It shouldn’t be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are _you_. I don’t — I _can’t_. I’m not going to let them take it away.”

“Good.” He’d sounded shaky to even himself. “Don’t.”

“Yes.” Cas had promised. “I’m not going.”

*

And eventually they’d moved past the heavy talk into why-didn’t-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may’ve been the first person he’d confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn’t mean he’d understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean’s target of irritation and added, “They asked Gabriel too, by the way.”

“And?” Dean didn’t ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

“He’s running off to Miami.”

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, “And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he’d started coughing instead, because holy _shit_ , it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn’t really sure how much longer he’d be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin’ _kitchen_ with the guy.

*

The third time’s after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin’ crunch, because _goddamn_ is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other’s, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and _then_ , just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms _-_ but then they’d separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he’d received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let’s do it the way we’re supposed to.”

And Dean had known immediately what he’d meant. _Let’s not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let’s…play safe._

“Okay. Uh,” he’d rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Thursday.” Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn’t _stop_ thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It’s at least midnight, it feels like he’s been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn’t asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he’s not the only one — although he’s better at hiding it (practise, he’d say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas’s text.

**_> >> I think I’m falling in love with you _[11:43 pm]**

**_>_ ** _**> > already. ** _ **[11:43 pm]**

Dean is _very_ grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

_< << so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby _[11:44 pm]

**_> >> in my defense, it’s been years. _[11:44 pm]**

_< << that part i get _[11:44 pm]

_< << me too _[11:44 pm]

_< << but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass _[11:45 pm]

Jesus, he’d never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

**_> >> I’m texting. _[11:46 pm]**

And he guesses he’d never expected to giggle (he’s alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

_< << good for you _[11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They’re idiots, _sure_ , but nobody is this dumb.

_< << so when the fuck are you coming over then _[11:50 pm]

**_> >> on my way <3 _[11:50 pm]**

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean’s door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean’s space like it’s been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean’s.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he’s found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean’s cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas _might_ just be a texter.

But Dean’s pretty sure he’s more than okay with it, so it doesn’t really matter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I'm SUPER behind on these, but *points at school* I blame them


End file.
